But here, he really didn’t dare to act arrogant. Glancing at that big pile of entrails, he felt utterly disgusted.

At that moment, he suddenly remembered the fierce beast that had chased him through the woods earlier. Suddenly, he had an epiphany—I've got it, I know what kind of monster these entrails belong to!

With that thought, he no longer felt disgusted. Instead, a surge of hatred welled up inside him. Good! Good! This is karma. Just now, you wanted to eat me, but now, fine, I’ll cut your intestines, slice your heart, and if I get the chance, I’ll break your bones and tie your tendons into a dead knot. Haha, this is just too satisfying.

He took a deep breath, then carefully wrapped the big pile of entrails in that large leaf and walked toward the stream, muttering to himself, Wow! Why is this so heavy? That kid seemed to carry it pretty easily just now! Sigh... This just goes to show, this... this really isn’t work I should be doing. Suddenly, he turned his head and said, “Oh, can someone help bring that stone over here?” As he spoke, he nodded toward the stone slab.

The old woman was stunned again. Seeing that both his hands were occupied, she felt embarrassed to say anything like “Why don’t you get it yourself?”

Before she could say anything, the young man eagerly ran over and picked up the stone slab. In his hands, it was as light as a piece of wood.

When they reached the stream, the water was crystal clear and shallow, looking as if you could touch the bottom just by reaching in. There were no fish or shrimp in sight, only some colorful stones, like warm river pebbles.

What kind of stones are these? So beautiful! Richard Thompson lowered his head, staring intently.

Suddenly, a pitch-black stone slab was thrust in front of him, blocking his view.

Richard Thompson turned his head and saw the young man looking at him curiously. He thought, Right, my life is on the line right now, why am I staring at stones? He said, “Just put it here.”

After the young man set down the stone slab, Richard Thompson squatted down and washed it with water.

The old woman and the others followed, but still kept a safe distance from Richard Thompson. Confusion was written on everyone’s face, as if they didn’t quite understand what he was doing.

It was a bit big, but as long as it was entrails, it was no challenge at all for Richard Thompson. As the saying goes, the fundamentals never change. He took out the sharp dagger from his waist and began to process the entrails skillfully.

The others watched, and gradually, looks of surprise appeared on their faces.

It was unclear whether they were amazed by the dagger or by Richard Thompson’s knife skills.

After a while, Richard Thompson finally finished cleaning the entrails, then cut them into small pieces on the stone slab, and moved them all onto the leaf. His movements were smooth and fluid. He let out a long breath, thinking, This really stinks! Turning his head, he saw the old woman and the others staring at him in shock.

Just now, Richard Thompson’s knife skills had truly opened their eyes. They had never seen anyone cut meat like this before. This kind of rhythmic knife work—at this moment, it was nothing short of art. Everyone was dumbfounded, and a couple of the young men couldn’t help but imitate him with their stone knives, clearly thinking it was incredibly cool.

Meanwhile, Henry Wright was already building a fire nearby, getting ready to light it!

Richard Thompson was secretly watching, still unable to believe what he’d seen earlier—Henry Wright starting a fire by drilling wood. But once again, reality proved it wasn’t an illusion.

Henry Wright lit the fire with ease, at a speed and with a strength that was almost imperceptible to the naked eye.

But Henry Wright’s expression also carried a trace of sadness, because just like Richard Thompson, he felt utterly weak!

Richard Thompson shook his head hard, trying not to think about it. He found four relatively thick branches, crossed them in pairs, and casually picked up two withered vines from the ground to tie the branches together, making a very simple grill. Then he set the stone slab on top to heat it up. He sat to the side, observing the slab’s heat conduction and resistance. Everything went smoothly. When the water droplets on the slab quickly turned to steam, Richard Thompson moved some of the entrails onto the slab.

The people around watched in utter confusion, having no idea what Richard Thompson was doing.

After a while, there was a sizzling sound. Under the heat of the fire, fat began to seep out of the large intestines, sending up wisps of smoke.

Richard Thompson squatted to the side, using two slender branches to keep turning the entrails.

After quite some time, Richard Thompson suddenly took a small transparent bottle out of his pocket. Inside was some pale yellow powder.

Almost everyone widened their eyes, staring at the little bottle with intense curiosity.

Luckily, he’d brought a bottle with him. He just didn’t know if this synthetic seasoning was really as magical as they said. Richard Thompson looked at the powder suspiciously, then shook his head. Whatever, none of them have ever tasted fresh food anyway. If I can’t even fool them, I might as well die. He carefully sprinkled some powder on—after all, there wasn’t much, and he was reluctant to use too much. Then he stirred the entrails with the branches, making sure the seasoning mixed evenly.

Immediately, there was a rapid crackling and sizzling sound.